As I Lay Pretending
by remuswolfylupin
Summary: As much as Remus loves Sirius, he can only pretend he has a chance while he's asleep...or at least pretending to be.


_Hi! _

_Ahhhh, my favorite pairing. Wolfstar. 3 _

_Remus is my number one favorite Harry Potter character so generally all my HP related stories are about him. I like to learn as much about him as I can and try to get into his head and really figure him out. It's rather difficult because we never get as much information about his teenager years, but I do what I can with what I have. _

_Enjoy!_

_~Rem~_

~.^^.~

I felt his thumb graze the lower half of my jaw as I lay there, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep, in the hospital wing. If I opened my eyes I knew he would stop.

If I opened my eyes…I knew that his soft, gentle touch on my face would once again become out of my reach.

"Moony?" Merlin that voice – his voice – it was so warm, so caring yet slightly cautious, as it spoke my name. I longed to open my eyes and see the man the voice belonged to, but if I did then I would lose the touch.

The touch…oh how I longed to reach out and touch his face. To stroke his cheek lovingly, just like he did to me when I would lay here and he thought I was asleep.

It was not just the fact that I loved him that I would lay here pretending to sleep just to feel his touch. These times were always right after a full moon and it was comforting, reassuring, to feel his presence. He could not, physically, feel the same pain I did on those nights, but he did his damn hardest to help alleviate my pain and that meant more to me than I could ever explain.

"Rem?" That nickname…I told him so many times to not call me that, but he insists. Secretly I sort of love it. No one else calls me that, only him. It was one thing for him to call me 'Moony' – that was the Marauder thing to do – but, to call me 'Rem', it seemed even more personal, more…like claiming, or maybe that was just my own wishful thinking.

His hand rests on my own and I have to keep my hand from moving. His hand is warm and familiar – the slightly longer fingers, the well-kept fingernails. I long to close my hand around his, to never let go, but I can not.

I can not let him know. I can not tell him how everyday I watch him as he goes about his daily life. How, since that day last year, our sixth year, I realized how much I am in love with him.

He would never return my feelings and it would be unfair of me to lay my one-sided love upon his shoulders.

I am being shaken slightly. He whispers my name as he shakes my arm lightly. I do not want to open my eyes, refuse to.

I ask myself everyday why I can't just live with my eyes closed, knowing that, with them closed, I was allowed to feel his touch, that, with them closed, I was allowed to feel hope that maybe…just maybe, one day…

"Remuuuusss!"

"WHAT?" My eyes snap open as I give him a quick glare.

"You're awake." He gives me that warm, friendly smile, that never fails to make me melt inside, before leaning over and nuzzling my neck in a very canine gesture, causing my breath to catch. I hope he doesn't notice – it seemed that he hadn't, thankfully.

"So it would seem." Would he just stop now? I couldn't pretend, couldn't believe, that I had a chance, while I was awake. "Hey, Sirius?"

"Hmm?" I could feel his light breathing against the soft skin of my neck.

"I'm going back to sleep."

"Oh, alright."

I quickly shut my eyes, turning on my side away from him, pretending to go back to sleep. I could feel his face hovering close, his breathing light against the back of my neck, for a short bit. Eventually his head rested against my shoulder and I felt his hand come up and start rubbing soft, comforting circles on the side of my arm.

This was why I pretended to sleep. This was why I could never help looking forward to the mornings after those dreadful nights.

Eventually I did drift off to sleep – my dreams cloudy and meaningless. When I awoke he was gone.

I felt a slight panic at his absence and sat up quickly. There was a note on the table next to my bed and I grabbed it quickly.

_Rem, Madam P said I had to go to class, the crazy lady. Love her though. Brought you some of your books. Know you can't live without them. Love, Sirius_

I laughed off my slight panic and looked back over at the table. There, indeed, were some of my books. Sirius was right – I loved my books, almost as much as I loved chocolate.

But there was one thing he was wrong about.

I could live without them. Heck, I could even live without chocolate if I had to – even if the thought of that made my innards churn.

But him?

No. It was him I couldn't live without. It was him I wanted, no, needed, to see everyday to live. It could not be healthy, living like this, but what was there for me to do? There was no denying my love for him, the warm, shivery feeling I got every time he was near, or we would accidentally brush against one another, or even when he would sneak up from behind to tackle me and I yelled at him. Sometimes it hurt to just think about – the aching of longing coursing through my body – how I wanted to just hold him in my arms forever, or at least be able to be near him forever.

The day dragged and I wished I could just go. It wasn't just him I was missing now, there were classes as well. I hated missing classes. Missed classes meant make up work, and make up work meant even more time spent doing the work out of class. Granted, I _like_ doing schoolwork, but, contrary to popular belief – helpfully spread, no doubt, by him and James – I don't like doing _extra_ work. Extra work means I spend more time in the library – a place he doesn't like to venture into all that often. How, then, am I suppose to see him?

"Merlin, Moony are you going to sleep all day?" He was back. Oh how hard it was for me to resist opening my eyes right then and there.

_Yes_. I would reply. _Yes, I am going to sleep all day. Just so you'll continue to sit there and keep me company_.

I waited, unaware of the fact that I was holding my breath, in anticipation to see if…

I heard the chair being dragged over next to my bed, heard him sit down and the soft thump of his schoolbag hitting the floor – there would not be any textbooks in that bag – felt his hand brushing back some of the hair from my closed eyes.

God, if I could only just lay here like this everyday, share these moments with him, even if I was the only one who felt this way, it would be worth it.

We stayed like this for the rest of the day. His hand resting on my shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing small, soothing circles, as I lay pretending...


End file.
